The Vacant and Stained
by ierowyourboat
Summary: My Chemical Romance frerard fic in which Frank is an angsty smoker at a Catholic school, and Gerard is the new kid with a crazy heart-eating ex-girlfriend out on the hunt for Gerard's new boyy crush wow so good at writing summaries gosh
1. Chapter 1

The entire room went quiet when he stepped in. Not like it had been buzzing with activity beforehand. But the boy entered the room and we all turned and looked, we all took him in, some of us drowning him out and marking him off as a nobody. But I stayed, studying his face and the way he floated in the door. I found him intriguing. I've always had a thing for nobodies.

The first thing I noticed was that this kid was quiet. His eyes were big and worried. He had a round, pale face, with black hair sitting on top of his head, that swooped around his eyes and rested on his eyelashes. He walked into class, clutching his bookbag to his chest and eyeing everyone up and down with fear, as if at any second, someone would spring up and punch him. He didn't say anything. He just glided over to the empty seat behind me and sat quietly, setting his bag on the floor and pulling out a binder as slow as possible, like he didn't want the plastic cover to bump against anything and make noise. He nestled into the seat and I could see now that he had a little extra chub around his middle. He was wearing the school uniform, which clearly didn't frame his body that well. The white dress shirt, black pants and black tie, reducing each human to a small stitch in the tapestry of school conformity. We were all little tiny atoms, you see, little organs that operated in this massive machine of self destruction and ignorance. The school was a part of it, the government was a part of it, I was a part of it, my parents were a part of it, and fuck, so was this new kid huddled in the corner doodling on a sheet of paper.

There was one thing, though. This kid had fucking red shoelaces. Red shoelaces sticking out from his black socks and dress shoes.  
I mean I had always made sure to keep my nails black, eyes black, hair black and worn black Chuck Taylors when I could get away with it, but this, this was bigger than any of that. This was a revolution. Fucking red shoelaces goddamit.  
The teacher had said his name when he entered class. Said he transferred from New Jersey to this stupid place. Started with a G...  
"Gerard." Mr. Radke's booming voice woke me up from my internal hypothesizing. "It's your first day, how about you get the first question?" His smile was transparent and damaged as he said some big number and then left the question to hang in the air. The new kid kind of jolted in his seat and looked up from his paper, displaying a sharp nose. He looked at the teacher like a deer in the headlights, while Mr. Radke repeated the question. "How many significant figures in 23.0703?"  
Gerard shook in his seat, his eyes moving all over the place, even landing on me for a while, before darting back to the board and muttering the answer. "6"  
"Correct," Radke said, turning around and scrawling something on the board. This was all useless. School was babysitting.  
Gerard looked down at whatever he was drawing and withdrew his mind from the rest of the class. I studied him the whole time, watching how he chewed on his nails and stared at his paper before he erases, how he second guesses himself.  
A familiar itch began to find its way into my head at this point in the class. The smooth drag of smoke sliding past my tongue and down into my lungs, filling me up so I could blow it out again. I'd been sneaking Marlboros between classes for the past 3 years, it wasn't anything new. It was just one of those things I did. My own little rebellion that no one else knew about, except myself. Each puff was a silent fuck-you to the catholic chains that held my ass down at this fucking corporation of a school.  
Radke had learned soon enough not to bother anymore with me, and really let me do whatever I felt like doing during class, within reason. I stood up and walked past Gerard, peeking over his shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of whatever he was drawing.  
It was this girl. A hot one too. She had blood dripping down from her eyes and lips and nose, little fangs sticking out from the red, her hair black and in pigtails, framing her pale pixie face and eyes.  
"Shit," I said. "That's pretty fucking sweet."  
Gerard twisted his head and looked at me, his eyes as scared as ever, while he covered his drawing with the white sleeve of his hand. He doesn't say anything. I expected him to tell me to fuck off or call me a faggot, but he just kind of stared at me. I shot him a quick smile and shuffled off through the rows of desks and out the door.  
The hallway was long and empty, with crucifixes lining the walls with chipping paint. I walked for a while, looking for the right door. I whistled We Are 138 in my head while I strolled through, taking big dramatic strides and saluting each crucifix while I passed it. Jesus wasn't a bad looking guy. He had some muscle, he was a little scrawny, but he had the whole chiseled features shit going on. I rounded the corner and saw the entry to my sweet sanctuary.  
I did a double take behind me, to the left, to the right. No teachers, no students, no nuns. All safe.  
I went through the janitor-access-only stairwell that led to the roof and made sure to lock the door behind me. The room was dark, and wasn't lit. The janitors had stopped using the stairs once they installed an elevator, but they kept the stairs around in case of a fire. But the moist room was only used to make-out sessions, drugs, and my route to freedom.  
I pulled the lighter out of my pocket and flicked it on, letting the flame help me from tripping everywhere in the darkness. Three stories of stairs upward and I found a door. It opened up to a bright light that blinded me for a second until my pupils swelled back into shape.  
The roof was always pretty peaceful. Nobody ever came up here, and the school was the highest building for miles, so I felt pretty isolated. I pulled out a cig from my pocket and lit it, shielding the wind with my hand. I loosened my tie, and leaned back against the door, breathing in the poisonous fumes. It was soothing. The tobacco filled me like some kind of medicine, relaxing my nerves and running through my veins. I took another sip and then let it out, opening my mouth slowly and letting the smoke run across my lips and out into the frozen air. I popped my collar and untucked my shirt, letting it hang down from my hips. I rolled up my sleeves, too, and took another drag of the cancer stick.  
The sky was a lot clearer than before. Winter was coming. The air was getting thinner and glassier, cutting deeper into my skin and rattling my bones with cold. I should've brought a jacket up here.  
How long had I been here? A few minutes, right? Shit.  
I checked my watch and realized that Radke would send a search party out for me if I didn't get back soon enough.  
I finished up the cigarette and dropped the butt on the ground, rubbing it into the ground with my shoe and then retreating back into the door and into the dark hallway.  
It took intense concentration not to trip on the way down. I remember the first few times I had come up to the roof, I had fallen one time, because I forgot to bring a lighter. I had just blindly wandered through, my hands in front of me, hoping I wouldn't accidentally grab a spiderweb or gross sludge from the wall. They hadn't used this staircase in years, so why pay for electricity for it?  
I still smelled like smoke. I spun my hand around and took the bottle of cologne I had stolen from my Dad and applied it in generous amounts, trying to disguise the smell of nicotine with amplified douchebag testosterone.  
I sniffed around and found it to be pleasing enough, and shrugged. Nothing left to do here. I spun around and opened the door again, stepping forward into the wet darkness.  
There was always something dripping in here, some pipe that was breaking or a hole in the wall leaking in water. Always something echoing through the murky walls.  
I was suprised I didn't catch on fire from the smelly chemicals on my skin that were probably flammable enough to be illegal in most states. The lighter guided me down the stairs and back to the first door. Now was the hard part. Make sure no one saw me stepping out into the hallway.  
I slipped the lighter into my pocket and tucked my shirt back in, not bothering with the collar or tie. I let the door slide open a tiny crack, letting a small line of yellow light shine into the black around me. There didn't seem to anybody close, or at least I couldn't hear any footsteps. WIth a final swift movement, I stepped out of the staircase and into the bright hallway, spinning around to quietly and quickly close the door. It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the light and notice the boy slumping across from me.  
The boy was still blurry, but eventually my eyes focused and I could make out the greasy black hair and pale face.  
"Gerard?" The word came out a lot shakier than I had wanted it to.  
He perked his head up and looked at me, the same scared look in his eyes. It faded after a few seconds, much to my surprise. His mouth went into a firm line and he stared me down. I wasn't used to being on the losing side of a stare down, and it didn't feel nice at all so I broke the silence and turned my eyes to my shoes.  
"What are you doing here?"  
"Same thing you are."  
Gerard brought his hands up to display a tiny white cylinder between his fingers. He took a huff and let it out, right in the hallway. He was smoking right fucking next to the bleeding Jesus on the wall, not caring about the deep smell that was sliding down the floors and throughout the school. Give or take five minutes before a nun sniffs him out. This whole display screams 'new kid'.  
"How did you even know I was smoking?" I suddenly realized. Maybe he'd seen me go upstairs and just drew conclusions?  
But he simply nodded his head over to me, and made eye contact with what I first thought(hoped) was my crotch, but was actually my pocket, where a tiny bit of silver was peaking out. My lighter. Shit Iero, you need to have better cover next time.  
I relaxed my shoulders a bit and let out a shaky laugh.  
"You caught me," I admitted, putting my hands up and taking a step back, my shoulders making contact with the pale beige lockers.  
Gerard smiled lightly and then took the cigarette out of his mouth and threw it on the ground, stepping on it and grinding it into the newly mopped floor. What a spectacle.  
He took another one from out of his pocket and slid it between his lips, then directed his eyes back to me. There was something different. Gerard was in his element. He was at peace with the world, and was confident and wasn't scared of anyone giving him the slightest glance of attention. This was a different Gerard than the shaking boy in Radke's class.  
He looked over at me with his eyebrows higher than usual and tilted his head forward. Oh. I jumped forward a little too fast and brought the silver flame to the stick in between his pink lips. I inched in closer than I needed to, while I watched his cheeks cave in while he breathed the new smoke into his lungs. He concentrated on the burning edges of red in front of his mouth, his eyes narrowing. I studied his skin, how pale and milky it looked up close. The way his hair balanced over his eyes perfectly in big graceful curves across his forehead. I noticed too late that he had moved his eyes up to meet mine and caught me staring at him. I sprung backwards and almost dropped the lighter. I opened my mouth to apologize only to find someone else's words fill my ears.  
"HEY!" A familiar shrill voice called out and woke me up from my Gerard-stun. Gerard's eyes got wide again, and the confidence leaked out from his mouth when he let out a soft noise of surprise. Stupid new kid. Thinks he can smoke in the halls. I grabbed him and pulled him by his collar, dragging him across the hall and back into the little janitor's stairwell. The door slammed shut and suddenly we were alone in the dark, our noses touching for a split second before he backed away and breathed out an 'oof' when his back hit the cold wall. I put my ear to the door and heard Sister Eliza shuffling past and sniffing around for high school delinquents. Tracking the scent of cigarettes was her speciality.  
"Where-" Gerard squeaked before I reached forward to cover what I hoped was his mouth with my hands. His voice muffled. "-are we?"  
"Shut the fuck up," I whispered, taking my hands off his face slowly and resting two fingers on his lips. He nodded and I leaned back and let out the breath I'd been holding in for the past two minutes. Once my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I noticed Gerard was eating at his nails anxiously, with the scared look plastered back on his face. I kind of missed it. That cool content aura that surrounded him when he was blowing on the cancerous device; now he was as insecure and shaky as he had been in class, and yet my interest in him remained unbroken.  
Finally the Sister's footsteps faded away and the coast was clear. I propped the door open with my foot and inspected the surroundings. Gerard crept closer and I could feel his words on my shoulder. "Is it safe?"  
I answered with a tug on his sleeve, while I lunged out of the room and closed the door, double taking to make sure no one was around. Gerard kind of swayed back in forth behind me, probably tired of all the tugging I had been doing on his shirt.  
"You should go back to class," I droned, tucking my shirt back in and rolling up my sleeves, in case the sister returned for a double check. "They'll be suspicous if we come back in together."  
Gerard looked confused.  
"We're the fags, remember?" I said flatly. His eyes seemed to sadden a little and so did something in my ribs. I shot him a quick smile and smoothed my hair down. "I'll be seeing you, Gerard."  
I grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around in the direction of the classroom, pushing him forward. I took the opportunity to whisper in his ear. "Don't smoke in the halls next time, yeah?" My chin rested on his shoulder and I lingered, feeling something shake inside of my chest before shoving him away and making my way to the courtyard.

It's hard to fall asleep with the constant sound of a failing marriage pounding into your brain. I had grown up with the muffled shouting coming through the thin walls; one would think I would have learned how to tune it out. But nope. Still there, leaking into my head and tainting every thought of happily ever after with the cursing from my Dad and the crying from my Mom. The Jack Daniels splattered on the wall from where he threw it, the stain stubbornly remaining in the carpet.  
I decided that lying here listening to them was only going to make things worse. I stood up and slid my Misfits hoodie over my head, determined to escape. It's not like they would notice or care that their lost cause of a son had left without a word.  
Dad was obviously drunk. His words were slurred and his arguments didn't have any point or reason, they just ran in accusing circles and ended in him passing out from the booze and Mom sleeping on the couch. I wasn't needed here. They had their routine, I had mine.  
It was a lot colder outside then it had been in my bedroom. I shook myself deeper into the dark fabric to try and absorb the heat and amplify the warm waves radiating from my body. It was black and quiet outside. Suburbia. Just countless numbers of beige stucco houses lining an empty barely-lit street. I marched down the street, breathing out clouds and staring at the moisture collecting on the edges of the sidewalk. I was alone and at peace with my thoughts and let them all come with ferocity.  
The first to come was Gerard. His light lips and enormous eyes. The same image of him burned in my brain like a photograph. The cigarette in his mouth and the smoke escaping from the corners. I took the cigarette off his tongue and replaced it with mine, lips moving against his while I brought myself closer to his body, and pressed against him. The noises that escaped him while I grabbed at his flesh and licked at his neck. The sweat that beaded down his jaw and the crease in his brow as he shut his eyes and groaned.  
I counted the steps I took between each crack in the cement, seeing how determined my feet were to get the fuck away from wherever I was. How determined they were go get somewhere. Not like I was going anywhere to begin with. I was going nowhere.  
I was nowhere. Some unrecognizable street corner with badly lit alleys leading off to God knows where. Maybe I should leave.  
Somewhere behind me a voice drifted against the cold wind and into my head. It was distant and unclear, yet I could make out two things. One, it was a dude. Two, it was singing. I checked to make sure no one was around and turned to follow the voice. I was a crazy person. This is what crazy people do. They follow voices.  
It got louder as I approached a small house on the end of the street, identicle to all the others except for one of the rooms upstairs. The window had a giant bat on it, a shitty painting that was chipping off from the sun and rain, but a bat nonetheless. The voice spiralled out across the front lawn from the window and I itched to find its owner.  
"ILLL PUT A KNIFE RIGHT IN YOO im WARNING YO."  
I suddenly realized that I had walked onto their lawn and was practically at their doorstep. Now I was a stalker. This is what stalkers do. And as I turned around to flee, a flood light turned on and burned my eyes into liquid, while I frantically tried to stumble off the yard and back into the darkness, but it's hard to plan an escape route when you can't fucking see.  
The voice suddenly stopped. Oh shit. I turned around to what I thought was the direction of the road and ran. Bad idea.  
Two steps in, I made contact with something and slammed onto the ground, clutching my knee and hissing unholy words under my breath.  
"Dude, are you okay?"  
I noticed two things at this point. The first was the very-solid mailbox in front of me, the object I had slammed into. The second I noticed was Gerard, standing over me with his hands behind his back while he bounced on his heels.  
"Uh-" was all I could choke out, while I forced the pain out of my body and stood up, the pounding in my knee screaming at me with defiance. "I'm fine."  
Gerard looked like he was going to reach a hand out to help me stand for a second, but only scratched at his head and ruffled his hair. We both stood there for a while, me cursing at my leg and him anxiously watching me, before he spoke again.  
"This is my house."  
"Yeah."  
"You're here at my house."  
I sighed and closed my eyes. "...yep." There was nothing else to say.  
Gerard didn't do anything but stand there.  
"Sorry, I was just going for a walk and I heard someone singing so I kind of... came here." It sounded at least ten times worse out loud. Please Gerard don't hate me.  
"Oh," he said. "Well... sorry."  
"Why are you apologizing?"  
"I- I don't know. I couldn't think of anything else to say."  
Gerard pursed his lips and looked everywhere except my face.  
"How about 'stop stalking me'?" I joked, trying to ease the tension.  
"You stalk me?" he said ,his eyes widening and finally landing on me. Fuck.  
"No no no no no, just... I was kidding," I mustered up the biggest smile I could fake and kicked at the dirt when Gerard didn't return it. Back to the silence.  
"Well, I'll just... be on my way then," I said, spinning around and swearing at the pain.  
His voice was small. "Wait."  
I made sure to turn around slowly this time, cutting my knee some slack.  
"Yeah?"  
"Thanks for today. For the- smoking. Thing." God each word he said just made this even more painful. He sounded like the words were being pulled out of his throat one by one. He tried miming the action of smoking with his long fingers, but gave up halfway and tucked his hands back into his pockets. "You saved my ass."  
"No problem," I sighed. "See you tomorrow."  
Gerard didn't respond, but I felt his eyes on the back of my neck. I made my way off his lawn and tried not to make it obvious how fast I wanted to get the fuck away. I made it a few feet and then gave in, peeking behind my shoulder to see Gerard had gone inside.  
My feet sprung into action, while I sprinted back down the street, not caring about the heat gathering up in the newly bruised skin of my leg. Just keep running...


	2. Chapter 2

It was around 3 am by the time I stumbled into the woods, cold and hungry, grinding my last cigarette into dust beneath my shoe. The air was biting into my skin and I snuggled deeper into my hoodie. My bones were numb and ached through every step, just mindlessly walking deeper into the black.

I could see my breath in front of me in little white puffs, circling in front of me and then dissapearing.

It was nice out here. Really, it was. I usually didn't venture off this far from home at night, but It didn't seem like anyone was missing me at the moment. i kept trudging through damp leaves that crunched and branches that howled, whistling through the dark and wondering how long it would be until dawn.

I counted the seconds, into minutes into segments of an hour, just letting my feet carry me while I meditated and drowned in the repetition of numbers. But my concentration was broken only 352 seconds later.

"Fuck!" My big toe ached from inside my converse. I had slammed it against something. But what the fuck would be out here in the forest that was worthy or handicapping my foot?

The answer was the cold metal box sitting in the leaves at the bottom of a tree, partly submerged in the foliage but still shining in the moonlight. It was a light metallic color that bounced up at me, searing my eyes and beckoning me to look inside.

I picked it up and brushed off the leaves and dirt. The box had no combination lock or latch, it just slid right open to show its contents.

Contents that made my stomach lurch.

Piles and piles of white, red and black stacked one side of the box. They were drawings. Curedly sketched out figures in pen and hastily colored in. They were all the same. White skin, red eyes, black hair and bleeding lips...it was the girl Gerard had drawn in class. The exact same one. Fifty fucking pages of her in various poses and situations. In one, her clothes are tight and leathery, hugging at her curves and accentuating the dips below her ribcage and above her waist. In another, she's skinny and flatchested, with a loose black veil draped over her, her eyes wide and scratched out with pencil. I brought each one up to meet my eyes, expecting it to make more sense if it was closer to my face, but nothing seemed to make sense. why the fuck were there dozens of these pictures hidden ina tiny box in the woods?

The second half of the box was the worst, though. Hidden in the small compartment on the left was a heap of bones. I picked them up and examined, deciding they were from a chicken.

Maybe Gerard liked to draw and eat chicken in the woods? But what's with all the pictures of this vampire chick?

I kept flipping through the drawings until I found the sketch Gerard had made in class. He had added some shading since I'd last seen it, around her eyes and on her lips, making her darker and more haunting. She was beautiful, she really was. In each picture, her eyes were piercing and real. It was like they could see through the ink and paper right into my own fucked up head and it freaked me the fuck out.

Something moved behind me. I spun around so fast my neck screamed at me while my eyes scanned for something, anything. Some leaves were swirling above the ground and a little cloud of dust was puffed up from the dirt, but no one was there. To be sure, I did a 360 only to see the dark woods and the smell of damp tree bark. I suddenly felt cold and put the drawings back, shutting the lid and sliding it back under the leaves. Gerard's secret safe and secure.

The walk back was peaceful and my eyelids grew heavy and refused to stay open. The time passed quickly, all I heard was the crunching under my feet and all I saw was the dark empty road ahead of me that was slowly brought to light by the morning dawn. It warmed me to the bone and chased out the swelling in my chest that had been aching since my little moment at Gerard's house. It was a new day. A new day to make new mistakes and fuck up more situations for myself.

My Dad was probably stumbling back home soaked in alcohol while Mom was crawling broken and exhausted into bed. Not exactly a situation I wanted to get in the middle of. The longer I stayed away from home, the less stressed out they seemed to be. Or maybe that was just my ignorance at work. Closed eyes, happy family.

The morning commuters were beginning to fill the streets and make me feel even more tired. Today was going to be living hell. I could catch up on the missed sleep in class I guess. The thought of facing Gerard's face in a few hours made me sick to my stomach, despite it being empty and growling from lack of food. My whole body seemed to be lacking in general. Not lacking anything specific, just left high and dry and wanting.

I let my mind wander as I turned onto the street I lived on, the sidewalks glimmering in the growing sun. Maybe someone was stealing Gerard's drawings and putting them in the forest for safe keeping. Maybe he had a stalker who did weird voodoo spells with his art using chicken bones. But who? It took two seconds of me going through a mental checklist of the kids at my school before I realized that_ I_ was the most reasonable candidate for Gerard's stalker. My chest began to ache again.

He was probably asleep in his bed, tucked under blankets and sheets, his greasy hair spread out on a pillow. I wonder what he did after I left his place. Did he go back to singing? What did Gerard do in his free time besides draw? If he was anything like me, he looked up porn and jacked it until the voice in his head calling him pathetic got loud enough to make him close the computer and sleep. Gerard jacking off? _He's too dainty_, I told myself as a stubborn warmth started growing in my stomach. I had to mentally slap myself to stop the warmth from spreading to other places.

I finally came up to my house and thought about just crashing on the front porch, so I wouldn't have to listen to my parents pretend to be mad at me for disappearing. Or I could just walk to school and take a nap behind a dumpster until it was school.

But the warmth in my gut had died down (thankfully), and I was shaking from the cold. Hesitantly, I got the key from under the mat and opened the door slowly, hoping I wouldn't find a drunk and sloppy father on the other side to scold me.

But all I found was a silent living room. Seeing as there wasn't any broken glass on the floor, I took it that Dad was still God Knows Where and Mom was enjoying her time alone. So I slipped into my bedroom and climbed under the covers, falling asleep to the image of Gerard's head resting on a pillow, eyes shut and covered by messy black hair.


	3. Chapter 3

But Gerard wasn't sleeping.

Or Jacking off.

He was hunched over a desk, barely lit by a small lamp that towered over him as his hand flew up and down over the white surface of paper, making sharp lines and deep curves with his pen. He was biting his lip and chewing furiously until it bled, little drops falling on the drawing almost blending into the picture seamlessly.

In fact, he had grabbed some red paint and splattered it in the background, little specks of blood surrounding the subject like a halo. There was no way of telling that Gerard's actual body fluids were in the drawing. That was his own secret. His own private signature to the art.

He stopped sketching and leaned back, cracking his spine and yawning. He brought the picture up off the table and held it up in the light, turning it and examining it with squinted eyes.

He spotted some flaws in his drawing within seconds. For one, the eyes were all wrong. They weren't round enough. They were too angular and angry. The jaw wasn't square and hard enough, too soft around the edges. The hair was perfect though. It fell down across the eyes in one graceful swoop of shiny black. And the lips were perfect.

The lips looked soft and touchable and perfect. Yes indeed, Gerard had done a fine job with the lips.

Satisfied with his drawing, he tucked the picture of Frank into his drawer and turned off the lamp.


	4. Chapter 4

The short two hours of sleep had seemed like two seconds. A blink of an eye and I was being startled awake by an obnoxious alarm clock. The sun shot through my window shades, almost accusingly. Yes, I know it's the fucking morning, mother nature thanks for reminding me you smart ass.

I groaned and hoped that maybe everyone in the world didn't want to get out of bed, too and that we could all just sleep in collectively as a unit. But no. I Had to be in class in about half an hour and I hadn't even showered yet.

Why I even cared about being punctual to school was a mystery to me. My parents didn't care, and my teachers sure as fuck didn't. There was early morning chapel at 7:30 every day that basically 99% of the brainwashed students attended. I was the only person that skipped out on it, atleast to my knowledge i was the only one. Luckily, they decided it was a little cheap to take attendance at church so they stopped keeping records of who was being saved by the Lord and who was getting damned.

I fell into the second category. I was left for shit in the afterlife, and therefore left for shit in this one. I was the black sheep, weaving through clouds of white, the scent of cigarettes on my tongue and thoughts of rebellion spewing from my brain and into whatever would listen.

Maybe Gerard would listen.

Fuck, Gerard. Knowing his shyness, he probably won't end up confronting me about the little event last night, but he was still most likely creeped the fuck out.

I finally rolled out of bed and flopped onto the floor, laying there for a few seconds in my misery, letting it sink in and warm my bones. It took some major motivation to get myself to stand up and stumble towards the shower, squinting my eyes at the bright lights stitching lines in my brain.

The warm water fell on my shoulders and filled in the goose-bumps lining my spine. I was hunched over, my posture always being inadequate according to Sister Eliza. I felt like my head was going to roll off my shoulders. I scrubbed at my hair, getting all the oil out of it and splashing some water on my cracking face.

Maybe Gerard _would_ listen. Maybe I wouldn't be completely alone in that prison of a school. He obviously likes the Misfits, considering he had been screaming them from his bedroom last night. He smoked. And he drew weird ass drawings and ate chicken in the forest. He seemed fucked up enough to be my friend.

Friend. I felt like such a juvenile saying that. Friends are what little kids have. I had no friends. I had grown out the concept of companionship like a second skin, shedding throughout the end of junior high until I came here, letting the flesh flake off and die, ready to live a lonely and comfortable life with my new colors. I was a mature and intelligent 17 year old and did not need friends.

I started scrubbing at the gunk under my painted fingernails, my brain finally beginning to wake up, my dick slowly waking up with it.

The thought of Gerard's mouths on the cigarette immediately returned to my mind, as a warmth grew in my stomach. His thin pink lips and his pointy nose, breathing in and out. His eyes closed in serenity and peace. Wait, no, stop it. I already skip out on chapel, I don't need being-attracted-to-other-dudes added on the list of reasons for my damnation.

But it was stubborn. The warmth moved to my crotch and made my cock grow fuller and tighter while I tried to will it back down. And now Gerard was in the shower too, edging closer and moving his hands against my skin, his lips meeting mine and his hands grabbing me below the waist and tugging, pleasure running through me in waves and gasps and the sound of skin on skin...

But I was alone in the shower, and the hands moving on my dick were mine, moving faster now, my other hand pressed against the steamed up glass of the door while I came onto the floor in short little breaths. The usual post orgasm bliss was quickly run over by the self hatred and guilt, while i watched my sins spiral down the drain in milky white swirls. I've never been one for ignorance, but I wanted nothing more than to pretend that this Gerard ideal was a coping mechanism to finally having a guy in my class who wasn't a complete ass. This was just a phase. I had never met someone like him and my brain was jumping to conclusions, confusing intimidation with sexual attraction and that was it. But it still buried itself in my chest and pressed against my ribs to make space for the chubby pale kid who was manifesting there, refusing to leave.

I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, massaging it into my hair and trying to avoid my image in the mirror.

My hands reached for the toothbrush and paste, which was quickly applied and scrubbed at my teeth, wishing i could scrub away all the bile and sick I felt rising in my throat. Lean over sink. Spit. Rinse. On the way back up I see my face staring back at me, the steam on the mirror unfortunatley beginning to fade away, showing my ashamed eyes and the dead skin under my eyes. I covered up the redness with some eyeliner and smudged it into place.

I stepped back into my room and slid on some faded pink boxer briefs and black jeans over them. The white dress shirt comes next, the black tie and the black converse. I managed to stay in uniform while still having a little bit of freedom. Maybe I could start wearing black dress shirts. Maybe they wouldn't notice. Or just call me a faggot again. Ha.

I grabbed my book bag and slid out the door into the eerily quiet hallway. I couldn't help but stop at the sound of my Mom's snoring and peeked my head in through the master bedroom door.

She was sleeping alone, like every morning. Clutching her pillow like an old friend, the other side of the bed cold and alone. Where her husband should be. I closed the door and bit my lip, feeling the guilt seep in again and press up against the walls of my skull.

No time or food for breakfast. I had to walk to school on an empty stomach, which wasn't anything new at this point. I opened the front door to the front yard and stepped out into the chirping birds and warm sun and nice day and wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed. This desire grew even worse when I saw the "parked" car in the driveway, sloppily laid out over half the grass lawn and dark gravel, my Dad sleeping at the front wheel, the smell of booze leaking through the windows that were opened an inch for oxygen to seep in. And like everything else, I turned my back and left.

School was as miserable as I had guessed. Gerard didn't say anything to me about last night. He was back in the corner of our classroom, scribbling in his notebook what I assumed was another picture of the vampire lady. Maybe he was afraid someone would make fun of him if they found his drawings, so he kept them hidden in the woods.

I breezed through class to class, receiving shoves and weird looks that were probably directed towards the charcoal around my eyes. Sister Eliza even did a double take, opening her mouth like she was going to say something, but I spun around and ran into a random classroom before she could scold me.

Three periods in, I decided to take my well-deserved smoking break from the roof. It was sunnier than before, so I didn't have to bring my jacket.

I stared out into the gray cement buildings that were considered a city and wished the worst for every single person residing within. I needed out of here. This place was dead and decaying and dragging us with it.

But something new and sweet ran past my nose and filled my head with smoke. Unfamiliar smoke that did not come from my lungs. I woke up from my pity session and turned around, half hoping Gerard to be there puffing up clouds. But of course he wasn't.

The smoke was still there, the smell of something different. Something richer and dirtier. It suddenly clicked in my brain. Weed.

My eyes widened at the comforting thought of letting my mind wander for a while and leave this place. I had tried to dim down the pot usage since school had started back up. When I got high, I really got high. It wasn't just a hobby, it was a commitment. I would smoke straight for 10 hours in my room, listening to music and eating chips and drawing. This was my usual summer routine.

And once again, because of my strange unexplained urge to pass through high school successfully, I had stopped smoking as much to keep my grades from tanking.

But the smell was tempting and making me feel at home. It was coming from somewhere below me. Definitely not the roof.

I walked to the edge of the cement and looked over the edge, following the smell. Well, fuck.

Gerard was in the student parking lot, cornered by two dumpsters and a fence. He was invisible to anyone passing by him. Only I could see him.

The new kid was toking it up on the school premises. Holy shit.

His collar was loose and his tie was on the ground. He was sitting on the ground, his back again the fence and his arms draped over his knees, that were up and bent, his feet tapping restlessly on the floor. The familiar at-peace aura was in his head. I could tell. And it made me ache.

He moved his hips up and brought his torso up off the fence, to pull a bottle of almost empty Jack Daniels from behind hiim. HE sat back down and took a sip, closing his eyes. He looked just like I had imagined him last night. Eyes shut and tranquil, his jaw soft and his hair in all different directions. I watched Gerard sleep against a fence, taking more sips and puffs. He must have decided that the roof was my place for smoking. He had found his own place. A better place than mine, too.

But then Gerard's eyes opened with a snap, and his skin grew paler and even from up here I could tell he was colder too. He dropped the Jack and leaned over on his hands and knees, vomiting on the pavement, his body lurching with each ragged breath. My heart jumped in panic as Gerard flopped over on the ground, his arms laid out on either side of him like a dead body.

I watched him lay there, screaming at him with my thoughts for him to wake up and clean himself off and go back to class. Shit. Stop scaring me like this. WAke up . Gerard, WAKE UP.

But he didn't. He just stayed there, lifeless and I realized that he was on his back, and vulnerable to choking on his own vomit, incase his lunch decided to come back up again.

I bolted off the side of the roof and ran to the door, almost falling down the staircase and bursting open the door into the luckily empty hallway. I found the nearest exit and pressed outside, dumping my cigarette on the ground and walking towards where I thought Gerard was hiding. He had done a good job with his hiding place. The dumpsters were angled so that you could only see him if you were walking along the side of the parking lot where there were no parking spaces. No one walked there, there was no reason to. I turned to that corner and slipped between the green dirty metal and fence, the smell of stomach acid making my guts churn and flip over.

The breaths came from my mouth now, trying to avoid the smell and the disgusting mess on the floor. Gerard was miraculously not lying in it, though. He had fallen over on the other side of it, safe and clean. But his eyes were still closed and he was still unconscious.

I carefully stepped over to him and poked his face a few times, hoping he'd wake up and make this easier for the both of us. But he didn't. I leaned my ears to his mouth and saw that he was breathing. Thank God. The last thing I wanted to do was perform CPR on a dude who had just barfed Jack Daniels everywhere.

So I crawled to the other side of Gerard and put my arms under his armpits, hoisting him up and propping him against the dumpster so he was sitting upright. He was bigger than I had thought. Jesus. I plopped him down and let out a huge breath ,wiping my forehead. There was no way I could drag him home. I didn't have a car and he was too heavy for me to carry. So I sat down with my legs crossed right in front of Gerard, propping his head to the side so that way if he got sick again, my jeans wouldn't receive any fall-out.

I just stared at him for a few minutes. The beads of sweat forming on his face and the way his hair was damp and sticking to his face. He was beautiful. And disgusting at the same time. Poor guy. Drinking yourself to sleep was something people with troubles did. Did Gerard have troubles? What kind of troubles?

That's when I saw it. A big purple splotch right under Gerard's left eye. It had been covered my his bangs earlier, but the wind was getting stronger now, blowing his hair out of the way to display the darkness under his eyelashes.

Anger rose up in my stomach and my fingers clenched, desiring to wrap around someone's neck, preferably the one that belonged to the monster who did this to Gerard. So Gerard did have troubles. Pretty big ones, aparentally. The thought of Gerard getting hurt, getting beat into a pulp and persecuted made me sick and sweaty and almost as gross as Gerard. My first instinct was to punch something.

And in the middle of deciding how bad it would hurt to punch a dumpster, my finger's instinctual motive changed gears and reached for Gerard's face, wiping the bangs away and smoothing over the black skin. It was rough and my throat tightened as I saw the way Gerard flinched when I touched him. Shit, was I hurting him?

But Gerard tossed his head around and muttered nonsense, his eyelids fluttering open, displaying bloodshot eyes and something dark in his irises looking straight at me. Something that was crying in pain and wanted to crawl out through the white and scream at me. It scared me so I turned away and stared at my hands. They were shaking. The texture of Gerard's bruised skin still echoing on my fingers.

"fFfffRank?" he groaned. I picked my eyes back up to see him staring at me, confused and scared. "What are you-"

He leaned over to the side of threw up again, making painful retching noises that made me sad and panicky. I stood up and made sure to get out of the way.

When Gerard was done, he was panting in deep breaths, still leaning over. I was afraid to touch him. He looked so vulnerable and scared. Like some kind of lost puppy. If i said or did the wrong thing, he could run away and get hurt again. But I gave into temptation and rested one hand on his back, trying to let him know that I was still there.

He didn't react to the touch. Just kept panting and spitting onto the ground, wiping his mouth and beginning to crawl back up. I threw my hand out in front of his face, for him to grab.

He tilted his eyes at me, his hair sticking to his forehead. He looked unsure. But I grabbed his hand and pulled him up off the floor with a grunt, throwing his arm around my shoulder and walking through the small pass between the fence and dumpster. Gerard dragged behind me, barely able to walk and hold himself up right. He murmured something that sounded like 'thanks'.

I looked around to make sure no one was going to catch us, and when the coast was clear, I walked out through the parking lot and off the school grounds.

"Whherearewegoing?" Gerard's voice was still slurred and inaudible. He was getting better at walking now, but he still leaned against me, putting strain on my back that I tried to block out.

"To my place," I answered, trying to use the relaxing adult voice that police officers and firemen always had when they talked to kids.

"B-bubtt I have class..." he protested. I didn't even answer, just kept walking. It wasn't like Gerard could run off. I turned the corner onto the street my house was on and tried to pick up our pace.

"You're sick and you can't be at school like this." I settled. I checked my watch. 2:14. Our next period would be starting in 16 minutes.

Gerard nestled his head into my shoulder and hummed as an answer.

"I'm taking you home. You'll get better."


	5. Chapter 5

**"**You're fucking retarded, you know that, right?"

I opened the front door and let Gerard collapse onto the couch with a soft 'oof'. I stood over him and stretched my pained back, getting all the kinks out and feeling like an old person for a terrifying second.

"Booze. AND weed. On school property. It's taken me years to earn that privilege. You can't just go straight to being cross-faded on your second day."

Gerard curled into a ball on the couch, reaching for the blanket crumpled up on the floor among pizza crumbs.

"You have to pay your dues, start tiny. Some vodka in a water bottle. Beer in a soda can. After you've mastered that, then you can start bringing hash." I knew I was talking to myself. Gerard was basically asleep, his body rising up and down with each breath.

I couldn't make up my mind. I was angry that he would be so stupid and do this, and I was sad, knowing he did this for a reason. He was escaping his mind for a reason. My shoulders softened up and I switched back to a calmer voice while Gerard buried his face in a pillow.

"I'll get you some soup." Gerard mumbled incoherent sounds as an answer. As soon as I entered the kitchen, I let out a huge breath and sat down on the floor. I propped my head up against the cabinet doors and looked up. If those jackasses were right, and there was an invisible man staring down at me, I had a feeling he was laughing.

My hands were still shaking and my breathing hadn't quite evened out yet, but Gerard was waiting for some soup. I got up and found the Top Ramen collection in the pantry and put a pot on the stove.

It took Gerard 10 minutes being in Frank's house to finally realize that he was indeed, in Frank's house. He had still been half unconscnious on the walk here, and had just fallen back asleep once he hit the couch.

But he woke up and found some Ramen in a bowl with a spoon sitting on the table in front of him. Next to the soup was a bucket and a tiny post it note covered in untidy choppy letters.

_In case the Ramen decides to come back up. -Frank_

Gerard hoped he wouldn't need it. His stomach was empty and raw, begging for something to fill it that wasn't alcohol or pot smoke.

He reached for the soup and sat up, his feet up on the coffee table, taking small sips and letting the warmth slide down his throat and heat up his insides. Mmmmm

Then he noticed another note on the table, right under where the soup had been sitting. He learned forward and read.

_I'll be back after my last period. Around 2._ And then in all caps, underlined several times, _STAY._

It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go. His mind was still groggy, though. He could barely remember how he got here. Let's see.

Gerard had wanted to get away for a second. He had gone back around the parking lot to where the dumpsters were, and he had hung around there for about 10 minutes. And that was all he could remember. Next thing he knew, he was on Frank's couch drinking soup.

He did remember Frank letting Gerard into his house, though. It was a short hazy memory of Frank letting go of Gerard, who flopped down and closed his eyes again while Frank said something and went into the kitchen. That was all he could get out of his tired brain.

He took another spoonful of soup, and when he took the utensil off his tongue, he realized how terrible his breath smelled.

Gerard heaved his body up, groaning and taking the blanket with him, wrapping it around his shoulders and wandering around looking for a bathroom.

It didn't take long to find Frank's bedroom. A menacing Henry Rollins was plastered up on the door, staring at Gerard in his miniature athletic shorts and thick legs. Frank liked Black Flag?

Gerard opened the door and smelled teenage boy at first impact. Sweat and dirt and cigarettes and beer and pot all breathing in and out through the poster-covered walls. Gerard recognized almost all of the bands, his heart swelling when he saw the autographed vinyl of News Of The World lying next to a record player.

The floor was littered with clothing, underwear and socks, cigarette butts scattered around and tiny black stains in the ceilings from smoke damage.

Gerard saw a door in the corner of the bedroom that was open ajar and hopefully contained a sink and toothpaste. He stepped carefully over the rumpled boxers issues of Fangoria to get to the assumed-bathroom and opened the door.

He caught a look in the mirror and cringed. His hair was disheveled and sticking up in all different directions, held up by grease and sweat. Gerard's eyes were droopy and one of them was dark and swollen. Shit, Frank had probably seen it. Hopefully Frank wasn't the type to ask questions because Gerard did not want to have to explain the origins of the wound to anyone at all ever. It would only make things worse.

And that's when Gerard remembered.

"FUCK!" He thought out loud as he bolted out of the bathroom, trampling on Frank's belongings and back into the living room to check the clock.

1:56.

shit shit shit Gerard had to be back in the woods by atleast 2:30. Usually he got there by 2, to make sure she was still happy and full. But now he was going to be late and she would be pissed and fuck up everything.

But Frank had told him to stay. Specific instructions. And he would be here any second now, right?

Gerard bit his lip and felt panic rising in his throat as he imagined the dissaproval he was going to be greeted with in about half an hour when he finally arrived in the woods.

So Gerard decided that Frank would survive without him, and raced to the front door, wiggling on the door handle only to find out it was locked. From the outside.

The panic was getting worse now, settling in his lungs and constricting them to crushed soda cans ready to be recycled and molded into something else.

He would have to stay here and wait, and find some kind of apology to give her. Frank had paper somewhere here, right?

There was a printer and computer sitting in the corner of the living room, stocked with white paper and a cup full of writing utensils that Gerard stuck his hands into and found a pencil, sharpened and ready.

He sat down in the chair and felt anxious tears rising in his eyes while he drew her again. Her strong jaw and angular nose, the curves in her cheeks and lips, making them full and adding the fangs, jagged and curled in a smile. Her hair fell down in waves, like she always liked him to draw it. He scratched it in black, adding stray strands crossing her face and tumbling down her shoulders.

And the eyes. The eyes always came last. Deep and disturbing, her irises big and her lashes delicate, sitting below dark brows that were angled, accompaning the smile to create a smirk. A pretty seductive smirk, he had to admit.

He folded the paper carefully and tucked it in the pocket of his jeans.

It was three minutes past two and Frank still wasn't here.

Gerard was chewing his lip so hard he tasted blood and salt. The ramen was still sitting on the table, lukewarm now but still edible. Gerard sat on the couch and chugged it down, praying for his stomach to accept it happilly and distribute the energy to his aching muscles.

Four minutes past two.

Gerard put the dish in the sink and returned to Frank's bathroom to find bitter mouthwash and deodorant.

He smoothed his hair down in the mirror, wondering if Frank had any concealer to hide his black eye. Gerard really was a wreck. He didn't think that he could drink himself to sleep that easily, he had never gotten to that point of intoxication. He had to admit, for the portion of it that he was still awake, it had been nice. His thoughts quieted and confused, wandering down corridors and emptying the chambers of Gerard's brain, letting him breathe for the first time in a while.

Now that he was relatively sober, the thoughts were returning, running back into the small crowded rooms and chattering loud and obnoxiously. They put him down. Negetive comments towards his appearance, his personality, his life.

"You look fucking horrible."

Gerard at first thought the words came from his head, but then suddenly realized that the voice was too clear, too human. He turned around and jumped at the sight of Frank looming in the doorway, his hand on the door and an amused expression on his face.

"The bucket is still clean. So I assume you feel better."

Gerard nodded and then felt his cheeks redden at being caught in Frank's bedroom, which judging by its appearance, had not been expecting guests.

"What time is it?" Gerard blurted.

"Almost ten after," Frank replied cooly, backing away and letting Gerard follow him back into the living room.

"I have to leave," Gerard said softly, his fingers knotting together and his eyes scanning the floor anxiously while Frank went into the kitchen and grabbed a beer.

"So soon? You just puked your guts out behind a dumpster. You should probably stay. My parents won't be here for hours." He took a sip of the alcohol and let out a loud sigh of satisfaction.

"No, like I really need to leave. To do something."

"Oh," Frank put his beer down and wiped the moisture from the bottle off his hands and onto his jeans. He clearly did not recognize the severity of the situation, which made anger rise in Gerard's chest and out his mouth in short bitter words.

"You shouldn't have locked me in." Gerard's voice was dark and a lot more bitchy then he had invisioned.

Frank's face fell as he watched Gerard walk towards the front door which jerked open and into the daylight.

"I didn't want you to leave and get yourself in more trouble," Frank replied from the opposide side of the room, his voice barely carrying to Gerard's cotton filled ears.

Gerard didn't say anything. He closed the door behind him and began his pathetic sprint to the woods, not looking back.

His feet smacked on the pavement for a few blocks before he gave up and just began walking at a fast pace. He walked atleast six blocks before the voices in his head poked at him and whispering in his ear that he had forgotten something.

He realized that he had forgotten to tell Frank thank you; a concern that remained in Gerard's mind for the remainder of the day.


	6. Chapter 6

That was it. Gerard just leapt out the door and was gone. I thought about running after him but he seemed so angry at me and it'd just make things worse if I followed him. Right?

I had to admit, I felt shattered. This kid was in trouble. He was drinking and hurt and ashamed of his hurt, which made it all the worse.

But now he was just running. Running away from me, quite possibly the only person who had ever shown him hospitality like this. Maybe his parents were as bad as mine. Maybe worse. Maybe he didn't have parents.

Or maybe I was making all this up in my head. Gerard could very well just be a normal kid who felt like getting away for a while behind a dumpster. His parents could be perfectly normal people, his black eye could've been from a trip down the stairs.

But there was something in his eyes. The way he looked so threatening at Frank right before he left. There seemed to be two sides to Gerard. Polar opposites that switched spontaneously and without warning. From prey to predator in the blink of an eye.

He was quiet, reserved and uncertain at first glance, his eyes looking scared and vulnerable. But then there were glints of the other part. The part that was angry. Angry at no one in particular, just the entirety of the world. At all the sins and guilt pressed up inside him, and all the bad leaking in through cracks in the good.

I crept up and looked out around the front yard. I didn't really expect to see him, but I had some false hope he would turn around and apologize and hug me and get closer and tell me everything that he couldn't tell anyone... fuck, what was with my mind, lately?

But there was no sign of him. Gerard was definitely around the corner by now, going to wherever it was he so urgently needed to go.

It's funny how last night I had been so worried that Gerard wouldn't talk to me anymore, on behalf of me getting caught staring up at his bedroom window like the hero in some 80s chick flick. That seemed so small now. So miniscule.

I had been given a chance to convince Gerard I wasn't a complete freak, and had once again, blew it to fuck. If he hadn't thought of me as creepy to begin with, he certainly did.

I went back inside and took small comfort in the fact that if I hadn't have found him, Gerard would have choked on his own sick and rotted away in the parking lot. So at least there's that. If Gerard won't be grateful for me saving him, I'll be grateful for him still being around. As long as he's here, I'll have someone to stare at during class. Someone to joke myself into thinking I've made a new friend with.

At least there's that.


	7. Chapter 7

It didn't take that long to reach the woods. It was almost 2:45 by the time Gerard slowed down, hovering at the edge of the dark green mass of trees. He swayed back and forth on his feet, his hands in his pockets. He anxiously ran his hands through his hair feeling the worry building up once again in his throat and roll of his tongue in a harsh 'goddamit'. The wind carried his voice out of his lungs and he shivered, the cold digging into his bones.

This was always the hardest part. Diving headfirst into the thick forest, farther and farther until he was near the center, where no one could ever hear him scream. But it was better this way. This was the only way.

He took his first step of the journey, tucking his hands under his arms and watching his breath spiral in front of his face.

He never took these walks for granted. There were only a small number of moments where Gerard was truly alone in silence, far away from the world and left with his thoughts to keep him company. These walks were where he could bring all his troubles to mind, diagnose them all and prescribe a solution.

The first thing that came to mind was Frank. What had he seen? Had he seen the bruised eye? What did he think?

The last thing Gerard needed was someone caring about him. This was always the first step to disappointment. Getting close to people was dangerous and futile. And besides, it wasn't like she would even let anyone get close to him. Ever.

But that was the first time anyone had ever tried to help him like that. Frank had actually dragged Gerard to his house and let him sleep there, and they'd only known eachother for a week or so.

He walked further and further through the trees and grass. Moisture hung in the air and the air only got colder and more stinging. His legs grew tired and sore, his feet ached and he only wished for someone to carry him the rest of the way. Like Frank had carried him earlier today. His arm around my shoulders and his warm body helping me pathetically limp over to his living room couch. But these were all useless thoughts, thoughts that would only lead to suffering. Thoughts that Gerard had sworn to rid himself of, ever since...

"Finally."

She was here.

Gerard cringed as he felt the wind stop in its tracks, switch directions and panic as a new force grew in the air.

"What took you so long?" The voice repeated, getting less distant and deeper. "I've been so alone, Gerard. So alone without you." Suddenly the voice was closer now, right in front of his face, between his eyes, staring at him with anger in its irises and longing behind its teeth.

"Don't let me feel alone." Gerard closed his eyes as the voice reached inside his head and filled his skull, rattling against his eardrums and making him cringe with pain. This was always the worst part. When she got inside his head and whispered things, told him things he didn't want to know.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, letting out a gasp when she finally loosened her grip and left his head aching and empty. "I didn't mean to."

"Well you're here now," she said. Her voice was beside him now, her breath on his neck and soft kisses landing on his chilled skin.

He opened his eyes to see she had appeared next to him, just as he thought. Her hair was longer than it had been before. Her eyes were a bright and transparent blue, surrounded by black like charcoal that seemed to be permanently etched there, not applied everyday in a mirror.

She raised her head from his neck and smiled to terrifying smile, showing the sharp teeth that reflected the moonlight and made Gerard feel sick again.

"Did you bring me a drawing?" she whispered, leaning forward and kissing his still lips, that reluctantly pressed forward and shaped around her mouth, letting her tongue in to explore as she liked. She tasted like blood.

He leaned back for a moment to nod his head, while she caressed his chin and dipped her eyes at him like a puppy dog. She was so beautiful it made him sick. Her skin was white and ghostly, her lips darkened and stained red by the sinning they'd done, the death they'd tasted. Her dark hair poured in waves down her shoulders and fell over her eyes in little wisps.

She smiled while Gerard pulled the drawing out and showed it to her with fake enthusiasm.

"You drew my nose different. I like it," she grinned and ran her fingers over the ink, drinking in the paper reflection, eyes dancing. "I'lll put it in the box."

She took Gerard's hand in hers and led him over to their tree. She leaned over and searched for the small gap in the foliage where their secrets were hid in a small metal container. She stopped dead in her tracks.

The air grew even colder.

She flipped her head around and her eyes were red now, eyebrows furrowed forward and her fangs extended slightly.

"W-what's wrong?" he tried to hide his fear. She hated when he was afraid. He had learnt that the hard way. She stood back up slowly.

"Someone moved the leaves."

"What?"

"THE LEAVES ARE NOT HOW WE LEFT THEM LAST TIME. SOMEONE WENT THROUGH OUR STUFF!" Her voice was in his head again, scratching at the walls and making him scream.

He fell to the floor, his hands over his ears and his eyes slammed shut. Her voice was a shriek now.

"DID YOU TELL SOMEONE ABOUT US?"

"No! I would never!" He cried, feeling the pain reach down through his nerves and to the rest of his body. He knew what he had to do to get this to stop.

He forced his eyes opened and tried not to puke at the scene he was met with. She was walking closer to him, her hair blowing in every direction, leaves swirling around her like a tornado while her voice echoed through his bones. The red in her irises burned him to look at. But he forced his attention to them and clenched his fists.

"I would never do that..." he cringed the next word. "...darling."

He shut his eyes again and waited for the effects to take place. Waited for sweet deliverance. And finally, the wind calmed. The leaves fell and he could breathe again, he could think again.

And he felt her beside him.

"Darling?" He could tell she was smiling. She pressed her soft body against his, filling him with regret and guilt. He knew what came next.

"Yes. Darling," he swallowed. He wanted to keep his eyes closed, but she forced them open with sheer will. He saw her eyes had returned to blue. But they were slowly changing to purple. To red. To pink.

She ran her hands under his shirt and up to touch his stomach. Her nails were sharp and threatening and he just stood there and let it happen.

She brought her hips against his, and pressed forward. He hated the fact that his body responded in the way it did. Eager and willing to play. He grew hard against her thigh and he felt drained. Used. Unresponsive.

She kept moving against him, harder and slower while they edged towards a tree and he felt his back press up against mossy bark.

"Touch me," she hissed. He took his shaking hands and placed them where she wanted. He felt her body against his and how familiar it was, it almost felt like home.

What a fucked up home.

She purred and began unbuttoning his pants, her hands greedy and desperate. Every move, every breath was pained. Gerard felt sicker than he had at all today. This was wrong.  
But it felt so right. It felt amazing. She was pulling on Gerard's dick and making him grow warm and he hated it. He tried not to show that he felt good, but his body was enjoying itself while his heart and his mind were praying for it to be over. He felt his hips thrust forward into her hands and he choked on his groans.

The worst part was that only years before, this situation would have been wonderful. He had loved her and had wanted nothing else but this. But things were different now. She was different now. And this only brought back old sad memories.

She shed her clothing and moved forward gasping while he went inside her and felt enveloped in guilt. Little short breaths were exchanged for a few minutes. Some muttered 'fucks' and moans and then it was all over. Gerard blacked out the rest from his head as he pulled his boxers back up and buttoned his jeans and felt emptier than before.

Her eyes were blue again.

"I love you so much, Gee. Did you bring me food?"

She was still naked and he couldn't help but stare. She was gorgeous. He remembered the first time he saw her like this in his bedroom. She had been embarrassed and nervous and he was too. He had told her that he loved her and they had kissed and moaned and loved each other. But now all that was left was this.

"...Gee?"

"Oh," he was brought back to surface. "No, I forgot it. But I can bring it tomorrow."

There was a flash of red in her eyes that quickly fled. Thank God.

"That's fine, honey," she smiled, finally pulling a shirt over her head. "I'm sorry I got mad at you. The wind probably just blew the leaves out of place. I'll put the drawing in there after I'm done admiring it."

Gerard stared at the ground and shuffled his feet.

"Well, I gotta go, okay?"

Her smile fell and suddenly she was right in front of him, her arms around his shoulders. She kissed him softly. "I'll see you tomorrow. I love you."

And then she was gone.

And Gerard was standing alone in the forest, like nothing had happened.

He turned around and started his way back home.


End file.
